


Epiphany, part 2

by heavenly-glance (SidneyHam)



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Getting Together, M/M, Season 1, i waited for someone else to write this and finally did it myself, martin has a second epiphany
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:21:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22783216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SidneyHam/pseuds/heavenly-glance
Summary: "What was Martin supposed to do with that, exactly? Of course he’d noticed Tim’s flirting. But he flirted with everyone; Sasha, Jon, Kevin, even Rosie! Martin even saw him wink at Elias once, though he received such an intense glare in return that Tim had never tried again. So what were a couple of dirty jokes and glances every now and then between friends?"what if martin had accepted tim's offer? vaguely based on the patreon bonus episode, but you don't need to listen to that to read this
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Tim Stoker
Comments: 14
Kudos: 148





	Epiphany, part 2

**Author's Note:**

> if you didn't get the opportunity to listen to the TMA patreon fluff episode: tim talked to martin about having a crush on someone at work, then picked up on the fact that it was someone in the archives. he gives tim some very sweet "you deserve good things" advice and left. he came back later asking if the crush was on him, and confirmed that he'd be "open" to that.
> 
> i gave an ultimatum that if no one had written about this concept, i would do it, no matter how long it took. well, that time has come and here we are. this is, as always, unbeta'd bc we die like men. who'd have thought i'd be here, offering some soft tim/martin porn? NOT ME! here, take it. go fetch

Something about Tim’s visit the other day bothered him. It was nagging at the back of his mind, squirming around like the _worms_ that he keeps seeing out of the corner of his eye. Living in the archives was bad enough, Martin didn’t need the extra confusion, the added frustration that Tim’s impromptu drop-in had brought up. 

So he had a crush on Jon. It wasn’t going to actually _go_ anywhere; Jon was his boss. That’d be a huge HR violation. Probably. Either way, it wasn’t fair of Tim to just barge in and start interrogating him about who he liked, as if they were still in primary school. Especially not when he opened up a whole can of worms about his insecurities, even though it was kind of nice to affirm that at least _one_ of his colleagues was still his friend. 

Still though, he absolutely didn’t need to start throwing out names like he did. And from what he managed to infer from the conversation, Tim and Sasha had some sort of bet on his romantic life. And then he said - that. 

“Dance card’s open.” 

With a wink.

What was Martin supposed to do with that, exactly? Of course he’d noticed Tim’s flirting. But he flirted with everyone; Sasha, Jon, Kevin, even Rosie! Martin even saw him wink at Elias once, though he received such an intense glare in return that Tim had never tried again. So what were a couple of dirty jokes and glances every now and then between friends?

Oh god. Was Tim actually into him? Martin fretted over this for an admittedly considerable period of time before finally deciding to ask Tim himself. After all, didn’t he do the exact same thing to Martin not even a week ago? He drafted, the redrafted, text after text before finally just asking if Tim wanted to get drinks together that night, since it was Friday and neither of them had to actually work the next day. Although, he supposed, Martin _did_ have to come back to the Institute. Because he lived there now.

Honestly, he wasn’t expecting the near-immediate confirmation text Tim sent. He’d expected the text to go unread until Monday, or for him to politely decline because he had company that evening. And why wouldn’t he? He’s Tim, the man with a body to die for and a personality that immediately drew one in. Okay, so maybe he was a little bit attracted to his friend. It was no big deal, because you’d be hard-pressed to find anyone in the greater London area that wasn’t at least a little in love with Timothy Stoker.

But Tim _had_ responded, with an enthusiastic “Yes please!” that had Martin’s heart racing for totally normal reasons. With only a minimal amount of fumbling, they’d agreed to a time and place to meet. Martin resolutely _did not_ spend the hours leading up to that fussing over his appearance. Tim knew his living situation, and hopefully wouldn’t be too put off by the outfit Martin put together from his measly selection of clothes he rescued from his flat. Surprisingly, he didn’t think to grab eveningwear in his rush to pack the essentials and get the hell out of there. Besides, it’s not like this was a _date_.

  
***  
  
  


“Martin!” Tim exclaimed from the booth he’d claimed in the bar they’d chosen. He stood to give Martin a one-armed hug in greeting. If that sent him blushing, Tim thankfully didn’t comment on it. “Didn’t think you’d be the one to initiate this little meetup! These days, it’s usually me or Sasha that have to drag you out of the Institute for some fresh air. Or just to see other people that aren’t staff.” Tim said with a pointed look.

“Yeah, I mean, it’s not the easiest thing to not freak out in public every time I see a worm. Sometimes they’re real, but most of the time I’m afraid I’m imagining them.” Martin felt relieved at being able to admit that, if a little embarrassed. But Tim wore an expression that conveyed his understanding and blessedly changed the subject by ordering both of them a stiff pint.

“All work talk aside, what prompted you to call on me?” Tim inquired. “Not that I’m complaining, of course.”

“I actually wanted to, ah - I wanted to talk to you about something you said the other day.” Martin admitted to the table, suddenly fascinated in the grain of the wood. He began tracing a line with a finger.

“Oh, I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable, Martin. I was just having a bit of fun, a little curious about what had you so distracted, but that’s all. I’m sorry if it was out of line. I know we work together but you’re still my friend and I’d hate-” 

“It’s not that!” Martin cut in. Looking up from his table when their drinks were delivered, he took a breath in attempt to calm his racing heart. “No, Tim, it wasn’t that. Well, it was, but about the other thing.” Tim seemed confused. “After. The second time.”

A look of realization crossed over his face. Martin’s own face seemed to be made of fire, so he busied himself by taking a deep drink from his pint. A slow grin started to unfurl from Tim’s lips.

“Martin, don’t tell me you texted me for a _booty call_?” He beamed at Martin with a shit-eating grin. 

“No! Tim, god, no!” Oh, he actually seemed a bit disappointed in that. “I mean, not that there’s no interest! Oh, would you please say something else before I embarrass myself even further? I didn’t ask to see you for a booty call, Tim. I just wanted to know what you meant?”

“What I meant by…” Trailing off, Tim took some time to remember what exactly it was that had confused Martin. Across the table, Martin was steadily draining his beer in an attempt to keep his mouth occupied and _not talking._ “Oh! The dance card thing?” He nodded. “That’s basically what it says on the tin, right? Dance card’s open, I’m open, get it?”

“Uhm,” Martin started again, “So you were, you were being serious?” Before Tim could answer, the waiter stopped by to collect their glasses and Martin mumbled his way through asking for a refill. When he looked back across the table, Tim looked utterly dumbfounded.

“Martin, I thought you knew! Christ, I’ve been dropping hints for what feels like forever. You really weren’t aware I was sincerely hitting on you?”

If it was possible, Martin’s cheeks coloured even deeper. “No? I thought you flirted with everyone! You’re always making eyes at our other colleagues, and two weeks ago you kissed Sasha’s cheek! Also, like, I’m _me_ and you’re _you_.” He decided it was best to stop talking when Tim’s expression went from amused to vaguely pissed off the longer Martin tried to explain.

“Okay, one: I ‘make eyes’ at people I find attractive. In case you weren’t aware, that includes you too.” Martin tried to shrink into himself. “And two: I kissed Sasha’s cheek because she agreed to take one of my more frustrating cases and couldn’t give her a hug due to the files I was currently carrying. But that doesn’t _mean_ anything.” Tim shrugged, “I just wanted you to know that if it _was_ me you were acting all dreamy about, I’d really like you to act on that because I _fancy you_ , as hard as that is for you to believe.”

Fixing his posture, as well as the no doubt dumbstruck look on his face, Martin cleared his throat. “Well. I, uh, thank you? I guess, same? I mean, ditto. I think I’d like to accept your dance card invitation, if you still have an opening?”

“Of course I do.” After that, they finished their drinks in companionable silence. The air was a little bit charged, a little heavy, and neither quite wanted to break the tension yet. Eventually, Tim called the waiter over and paid their tab. “So, what now?” he asked with a warm smile. “I think we’ve spent what time we want to here, but I don’t think I’m ready to let you go just yet. We could grab a late night bite to eat, or we could actually go dancing at one of the clubs around here? And there’s always my flat. I’m sure I can scrounge up something for a nightcap, if you’d like. Promise to be a perfect gentleman.”

With a groan, Martin politely declined both options of staying out later. Unfortunately, his body just isn’t quite as young as it used to be, and he’d never been much of a clubbing kind of guy. 

Which is how the two of them ended up on opposite ends of Tim’s couch, each nursing a cup of tea that Tim insisted on making. Even they both knew Martin’s tea would have been far superior. They’d chatted idly about their childhoods (Tim’s was objectively happier), families, and other idle topics on the walk to the flat, but Martin was still mulling over the conversation that led them here.

“About your advice back in the archives, just out of curiosity, where do _you_ think I stand firm, Tim? Not - not things that I can _give_ people, right?” Tim set his empty mug on the coffee table while he mulled the question over in his head.

“Of course. I mean firstly, I think you’re incredibly brave. I would’ve quit the second that freaky worm lady let me go. But you’re still here, Martin. You’ve not thrown in the towel and found somewhere else to work, instead you stayed and kept researching even when I know you’re scared.” Martin looked as if he was about to interrupt. “I’m not done!” Tim said, shushing him with a finger to his lips. 

“You’re also very kind. Now I know that making people tea is technically giving something, but you’re probably the only person I know that can make the perfect cup every time. And we never have to ask! You’ve always been great at conversation, ever since you started working at the institute. It can get pretty dreary in the archives, and I know all of us appreciate you being there to brighten it up a bit.”

By now, Martin was incredibly red-faced. He batted Tim’s hand away. “Are you done?” he asked, with a hint of trepidation in his voice. 

“Nah, I also think you’re hot as hell.” Tim declared, smirking. Martin made a noise that was half squeak, half groan and put his head in his hands.

“I’d really like it if you’d shut up now, Tim,” he said, the words slightly muffled by his palms. 

“Well, I’d really like it if you came over here and made me.” 

Half scandalized and half intrigued, Martin carefully shuffled closer to Tim. They were almost knee to knee. Ever so slowly, Tim reached over and pried the mug from his hands. The gentle clink of ceramic on glass broke whatever spell that’d entranced them, and Martin lurched forward.

The kiss was slightly off center with the force of Martin’s body pressing Tim back against the arm of the couch. He angled his head more and, oh, that was so much better. Every sense of his was heightened with the slick slide of their lips. Tim was kissing back with just enough fervour, if not more. There was a hand in his hair and a fist curled in the front of his shirt, hauling Martin closer, closer, ever closer.

Tim let his legs fall further apart and Martin greedily scooted into the space left for him between his thighs. Tim was one hot line of heat plastered to his front, and he couldn’t get enough. He placed a hand on Tim’s jaw and deepened the kiss. With the first sweep of tongue across his lips, he desperately reined in the moan that threatened to spill out. It’s a good thing that they were already sitting down, because the things Tim did with his tongue made his legs feel like trembling jelly. He felt like a trembling mess, and they were only _making out_. He hoped Tim didn’t think he was too easy. 

Trying to regain his composure and actively participate, Martin slid one hand down Tim’s chest. With a surprised noise, Tim’s hips stuttered upwards and his hand tightened almost painfully in Martin’s curls. This time, Martin couldn’t hold back a moan at the dual sensations. At least now he knew that Tim was just as affected as he was. 

Martin leaned down to lave at Tim’s jawline, working his way down his throat and cataloging which spots caused a reaction. After that first bridge was crossed, neither of them could quite stop the slow grinding of their hips against each one another. One particularly sharp circle of his hips had Martin’s head hanging forward, lips brushing an earlobe as he let out a soft “Oh, Tim.”

Tim abruptly stopped his movements and gently pulled Martin up to meet his gaze. “Not that I’m not having an _incredible_ time right now, but would you like to move somewhere a little more comfortable than this couch?” Martin gave an enthusiastic nod and climbed off his lap, gesturing at Tim to lead the way.

They eventually made it across the flat into Tim’s bedroom, making only one short detour so Tim could press Martin up against the wall and kiss him senseless. He wasn’t afraid to beg a little when Tim slid a thigh between his own and pressed up. “Tim, please, if you keep that up..” he trailed off and Tim relented, taking his hand until they made it to the bed and Martin was gently pushed backwards.

Tim took a moment to pull his shirt over his head before climbing after Martin, settling with his knees at either side of his waist, asking, “I’d like to take yours off too, if you’d like?” And God, he should not be allowed to look so debauched and sexy while asking something so politely. With a mumbled “yes, please,” Tim rucked up his shirt, sliding his hands up his chest as he went. Being pressed chest to chest sent a jolt of electricity down his spine, and he returned to Tim’s slightly swollen and shiny red lips. 

After a few minutes of messy, heated kissing and aborted thrusts of hips, it became clear to Martin that Tim wasn’t going to be the one to escalate things any further. Reluctantly, Martin pulled away from the heat of his mouth. “I know I said that tonight wasn’t a booty call, but what would happen if I said I might like that?” 

Tim smiled wickedly. “I would say something along the lines of ‘finally!’ and then do this.” With that, he slithered down Martin’s torso, stopping at his belt, where he was achingly hard in his pants. “That looks uncomfortable,” he mused, with a devious glint in his eyes. In no time at all Martins trousers were tossed off the side of the bed, and Tim was breathing hotly at the front of his pants. He wasn’t moving.

Martin tried to keep the whine out of his voice as he said “Feel free to continue any time.” 

“Hmm. You’ll have to ask politely, Martin.” And oh, Tim was just pushing all the right buttons tonight. When Martin didn’t say anything in response, Tim’s mouth made contact with his briefs, wetting the fabric around his cock and applying a hint of friction. 

“Okay, please, Tim, please!” Martin begged.

“Good boy,” Tim murmured as he pulled the pants all the way down and off. Martin tried his very best not to whimper at the praise. “God, look at you,” he breathed, gazing down at the now fully naked Martin in his bed. He squirmed uncomfortably on the sheets before Tim acquiesced and finally took the head of his cock into the wet heat of his mouth. Martin had always been sensitive, and this was no exception. He brought a fist up to his mouth to keep the choked-off sounds of pleasure in, but Tim pulled off with an admonishing look and tugged the hand away. “Come on, I want to hear you. Can’t you see how hot that is, how hard it makes me?” 

Glancing down, Martin could see Tim shallowly thrusting his hips into the mattress, as if he was getting off on sucking him off. He let his head fall back and groaned, but kept his hands fisted in the sheets instead of covering his mouth. Satisfied, Tim returned to laving at Martins cock. He ran his lips and tongue all over, getting him wet before sucking his cock into the back of his mouth. 

He kept at it, changing up the pressure and speed, all the while Martin was letting an almost constant stream of pleasured noises slip from his throat. He tentatively unfurled one hand from the sheets and placed it on Tim’s head, pulling gently. Tim moaned around his cock, and that was it, it was too much- “Tim, Tim I’m going to come if you don’t stop,” he panted.

With an obscene _pop_ Tim pulled off and crawled back up to kiss Martin after sparing a second to wipe at his mouth. “Yeah, come on, come for me,” he slipped a hand around Martins wet cock and managed only a couple of strokes before he bit down on Tim’s lower lip with a grunt and came harder than he had in _months_. Tim kept kissing him and stroking him through it before slowing to a stop when his hips twitched away, oversensitive. 

He came back to himself and kissed Tim back with renewed vigor. “Fuck, Tim, you’re incredible. Here, let me -” but before he could get his hand around Tim’s cock, he was groaning through his own orgasm and thrusting weakly against Martin’s hip. “Oh, okay. Hah, that works too, I guess.” 

Looking not even the tiniest bit bashful, Tim smiled up at him. “Sorry, you were just really hot. Didn’t quite want to wait when I was _so close_.” He kissed Martin’s cheek, his nose, and finally his lips. “But the night is still young. You could always get me off during round two?” Martin groaned and buried his face in Tim’s messy hair.

“You’re severely underestimating how thoroughly you’ve worn me out.” Tim pulled back and stuck his tongue out at him before settling into a smirk. Martin pulled him down to kiss the smug look off his face. “However, after getting cleaned up a bit and a quick nap, I could be convinced to go again.” Tim hummed softly before pushing off the bed to grab a wet cloth. Martin couldn’t _not_ watch him as he left.   
  


***

Later, when they both were cleaned up and half-spooning on Tim’s large bed, Tim interrupted the sleepy silence by voicing something that had _clearly_ been on his mind all night. “So it _was_ me you were mooning over while we were heroically exterminating worms, then?

“Tim!” Martin slapped his arm. “Go to sleep please.” Muffling his laughter into Martin’s chest, Tim closed his eyes and did just that.

**Author's Note:**

> well i can now admit that this was the first time writing anything spicier than T-rated fics! also the longest thing i've ever written!
> 
> feel free to check me out on tumblr @wormtitty 
> 
> thanks for reading, you made it!


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